


Mistletoe

by thegrubbypony



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: (nobody we like lmao), Abuse, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Billy Hargrove & Eleven | Jane Hopper Friendship, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Experiment Billy, Gun Violence, Human Experimentation, M/M, Redemption, References to Norse Mythology, Slow Burn, Violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-07-23
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-15 01:32:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15402027
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thegrubbypony/pseuds/thegrubbypony
Summary: “You’re the closest thing humanity has to the Gods, child. Isn’t that remarkable?”-Billy has been able to do things no other human being is capable of ever since he was a child. One day, it winds up with him hanging on the line between life and death.





	Mistletoe

**Author's Note:**

> Alrighty, so I have two wips on this site already that I haven't finished but this wouldn't leave me alone so! Here you are! Expect a lot of swearing and Norse Mythology references!
> 
> Warning! Physical and Mental abuse from Neil!

It was one of those nights again.

Billy laid in bed, eyes closed, trying not to focus on it, but it was impossible. The longer he ignored it the stronger it got. It started as a low hum in his bones, pulsing through his ribs and down his spine, until it began to spread to his fingers and toes. He could feel the energy underneath his skin and he pulled his arms up from under the covers, dragging his nails over his wrist. He had to refrain from scratching the itch. If he started, he wasn’t sure if he’d be able to stop and that was a mess he didn’t want to deal with again.

His eyes glanced towards his closed door and his tongue darted out to swipe over his lips. He had to be careful.

Rolling onto his side, he held one hand out in front of him and spread his fingers experimentally. He relaxed and watched silently as a spider web of electricity formed between his fingers and curled around his palm. The strands crackled and flickered in and out of existence, switching positions, getting longer or shorter, thicker or thinner. Billy could feel the tension leave his body and the itch ebb slowly the longer he watched the light show. The sound it made was sharp, but quiet, and Billy felt his eyes droop. For the first time in a long time, he felt… peaceful.

There was something about the way it felt that made Billy lose track of time. He found that peacefulness and clung to it, forgetting what happened the last time he used his powers. It must have been an hour that passed before it began to rain heavily, and with such sudden ferocity that he flinched and the electricity in his hand erupted - bolts of lightning snapped outwards and touched the walls and ceilings.

He sat upright and clenched his fist, tucking it tightly against his stomach as if it had been burned. There was a roll of thunder overhead so loud that it made the house shake. Dread swelled in his chest and he blinked into the darkness of his room, trying in vain to make the storm disappear, but it was already too late. Through the sound of the rain, he could hear a door swing open and footsteps leaking out into the hallway. It’s just Neil - Max and Susan were away for the weekend.

Preemptively, Billy threw off his duvet and got to his feet quickly. His legs were shaking and he ground his teeth together until his jaw stung.

When the door finally opened, and the light switched turned on, Neil was glaring at him incredulously. His wide, dark eyes were boring into Billy’s very soul and he set his shoulders against it. There was nothing but tense silence between them for a few moments, then a short boom of thunder.

“What are you doing, son?”

Neil’s voice was light. Out of context, it might have sounded friendly, but there was an edge to it that only Billy could recognise as heated hostility. It was… mocking.

He knew that he should say something; apologise, make up an excuse, then take the punishment, but something held his tongue. He didn’t know what to say this time. _I’m sorry sir, I was messing around and accidentally summoned a storm_. That seemed like putting his head in the lion’s mouth. He might as well just say he did it on purpose for all Neil would care.

Billy’s silence, however, only served to make Neil angrier. The older man’s brow furrowed tightly and he stepped into the room slowly, like a predator advancing on its prey. He got close enough for his breath to fan uncomfortably across his son’s face, then tilted his head.

“I should punish you for this.” He muttered. “God knows you need it.”

The thunder roared suddenly and the lights flickered in time with the spike of anxiety shooting through Billy’s chest. Neil glanced up, then trained his eyes back onto his son. His expression tightened.

“You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you? Do you want to go back, huh? Is that it?”

“No!” Billy snapped, rage flaring. “I didn’t mean to do it, I can’t-”

Neil’s fist planted itself into his cheek and pain, white hot, flashed through his skull. He fell backwards and landed against the side of the bed, sliding onto the ground with one arm hooked over the mattress. His vision swam and he found himself blinking dazedly down at a pair of bare feet. The rain got harder. It was crashing against the roof and the windows like it was going to break right through.

“I thought we talked about this, Billy!” Neil shouted. “Do you want them to take you away?”

Billy didn’t say anything. He didn’t know why he didn’t just play along, say ‘no, sir’ and cower like he was supposed to. It only made Neil even angrier.

“You stay right there. Don’t you dare fucking move.”

He complied, slumping like a rag doll against the bed and willing the electricity pulsing through his body to leave him be. It was in the floor, the ceiling, the walls, the air he breathed. Inescapable. He inhaled and lightning struck again, followed almost instantly by a crash of thunder that made his teeth vibrate in his skull. Neil walked back into the room and Billy froze, eyes finding the gun in his father’s hand almost instantly.

The lights flickered and Neil pressed the gun to his son’s forehead.

“Dad… You can’t kill me.”

His voice sounded hollow, but the words were true. A bullet to the head would heal in an hour or so, slower than other wounds because of the damage to the brain, but it would heal. That didn’t necessarily stop the fear from making him nauseous with the thought of being shot - that shit fucking hurt.

Neil smiled. “No? What if I told you that in the chamber of this gun, there are the only bullets in the world that _can_ kill you? That this is the only weapon that can end your life? Sure, it will still take a while, but they will kill you. They made them _especially_ for you.”

Billy stared at his father in shock. For a moment, he thought Neil was just lying to frighten him, but the expression on the older man’s face made him falter. He was completely serious.

“They called them Mistletoe Bullets. Isn’t that charming?” Neil pushed the gun closer. “Now. Are you going to behave?”

 _Mistletoe_. Billy scowled and bared his teeth.

“You won’t kill me.” He said. “You won’t risk it. They’ll find out.”

Neil scoffed. “Nobody would care if you died, you know? Or, say, if you went missing. I can make it so nobody ever knows what happened to you, but nobody would care enough to try and find out. The police will give up eventually and then you’ll be forgotten. Susan and Max hate you. You have no friends. _Nobody would care_.”

It stung, hearing it said out loud. Billy pushed himself unsteadily onto shaking legs and the gun followed him up. The expression on his father’s face faltered and for a split second Billy could see it; fear. His father was scared of him. Something deep inside of Billy snapped and he decided, then and there, that he’d had enough.

“What are you doing?” Neil raised his voice. “Stop it, right now. Send your stupid storm away and stop acting like a fucking child. I’m doing this for your own good.”

“My own good?” Billy repeated, slowly.

He flexed his fingers at his sides and lightning sprung from them, touching his palms and the flesh of his thighs brightly in the dull light of his bedroom. Neil looked down and his eyes widened.

“Stop it. Now.” The gun shook.

His eyes burned and he saw strands of electricity dance in his peripheral vision. Wind was whipping at the windows and the rain was harder than ever, with a deafening crack of thunder and a blinding flash of lightning.

“Go on, dad, do it. After all, it’s not like anybody cares, right?”

Neil hesitated, then his grip on the gun tightened and Billy tensed as he watched his father’s finger curl around the trigger. Reeling back, he thrust a closed fist forward and the lightning in his hand exploded into Neil’s chest, sending him flying backwards into the wall in the corridor with an impressive bang. His body slid down onto the ground and left a crater in the wall. Billy stood for a moment, staring at the body and the charred rib cage that peeked out of Neil’s burnt chest, before letting the lightning die.

His body remained numb until that moment. With a shuddering gasp, he clutched at his stomach and looked down at his hand in surprise. Blood, his blood, spilled out from between his fingers. The pain seeped into his body slowly and he swayed.

“Fuck you, old man.” He hissed and his voice cracked. “Fuck you.”

He stumbled forward and fell to his knees by the body, gingerly taking the gun off the floor. It felt heavy in his fingers and he wanted to be sick. Bile rose and burned at the back of his throat; he had to clamp his hand over his mouth, his fingers slick with his own blood. The smell of Neil’s burnt corpse was rich and made his eyes water.

Billy had just killed his father.

The realisation hit him squarely in the chest and his lungs tightened. What was he supposed to do now? How the fuck was he supposed to explain something like this? If news leaked of a dead body, chest burned, during a storm in the middle of Summer, they would find him. No matter what he did, they would hunt him down and take him back to the lab.

Panic, it gave him enough energy to pull himself onto his feet with the gun in his hand. A part of him was guilty, not for killing Neil, but for knowing that tomorrow evening Max and Susan were going to come home and find him dead in the corridor. But, what could he do? If he stayed, they’d find his body too. _I’m bleeding out_. He looked down and for a moment could only watch as blood dribbled down his legs to his feet.

The bullet worked - the wound wasn’t healing. At least, not quickly.

Hospital wasn’t an option. Neither was getting any kind of help. _You have no friends_. It hurt. He burned those bridges down long ago. Now, he was paying for it. Billy was going to die.

Straightening his back and tucking the gun into the waistband of his pyjama bottoms, Billy stumbled his way downstairs. Pain made him lean against the wall, smearing blood all the way down, leaving a trail. He grabbed his keys and left the door open behind him as he dragged himself towards his car. Once inside, he sat for a moment with the car door open and one foot still resting on the pavement, head resting back against the seat. Exhausted. His limbs were sluggish and his vision was swimming. He could barely even register the feeling of the rain soaking into his clothes and the ground against his bare feet.

“Come on,” He slurred to himself. “Come _on_.”

He lifted his foot into the car and slammed the door shut.

*

_“This is extraordinary.”_

_Billy looked at the man wearily. He was wearing a long white coat and Billy didn’t like the way the man buried his hands in his deep pockets when he leaned down to inspect his face. Too close. Billy scowled and the electricity burst out of his hands in small, chaotic bursts, but the man only laughed in unbridled joy at the sight._

_“Wonderful! I’ve never seen anything like it!”_

_A woman, Miss Anderson, the person he’d come to look up to like a mother, stepped forward and touched Billy’s shoulder protectively._

_“You’re scaring him, Dr Brenner.” She said, sharply. “He can’t control it yet and you’re not helping by aggravating him.”_

_“Oh, my apologies.” He didn’t look sorry at all. “It’s just always so exciting to discover a new one, yes? What else is he capable of?”_

_Billy looked up at Miss Anderson and frowned. She looked like she didn’t want to say anything, but eventually she lowered her head and gave Billy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze._

_“He heals at an accelerated rate to the average human. A shallow cut heals in seconds, and he doesn’t bruise.” She sighed. “When he’s angry or scared, the weather changes. Storms.”_

_Dr Brenner claps his hands together loudly and Billy jumps._

_“Well, well! We have our very own God of Thunder! Ha!” The intimidatingly joyful man leans down again and cups Billy’s cheek with one hand. “You’re the closest thing humanity has to the Gods, child. Isn’t that remarkable?”_

_Billy was too young to understand, but he knew he didn’t like the way this man looked at him. Dr Brenner stood upright and rubbed his hands together._

_“Now then. Let’s get to work.”_

*

Billy didn’t know how long he’d been driving for, or where he was going, but eventually his body started to give out. The pain was only growing with every passing minute and his reflexes were making it difficult to stay on the road, but he kept going until the houses started to thin and all he could see was woodland. Leaning back against the car seat, he groaned and gripped at his gut with one hand, sweat dripping from his chin and onto his chest. It was getting increasingly more difficult to keep his fingers wrapped around the steering wheel.

Eventually, his vision darkened and he slowly lost consciousness. His head rolled lifelessly onto his chest and his hands fell onto his wet lap.

The car was still going at an alarming pace and at the lack of direction from the wheel it drifted off to the side, swerving on the slick road, then hit the pavement and vaulted over into the trees. The crash was messy and the car rolled over several times before it managed to hit a tree side on, the trunk lodging itself deeply into the passenger side.

A few moments later, a little girl and an older man discovered the crash.

“There!” The girl shouted. _“Five!”_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, if you're interested, I have a writeblr account on tumblr, but it is mostly original work and writing references: @bicameralwriter


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